watched: titanic

watched: pulp fiction

definition of pulp. 1. A soft, moist, shapeless mass of matter. 2. A magazine or book containing lurid subject matter and being characteristically on rough, unfinished paper. 

helmet on, now bike

As I told my mother this evening, your daughter is awesome, and I'll admit to having a bit of an ego tonight, too.  For good reason, I successfully completely my first bike ride to and from work, during rush hour.  It has taken all summer for me to finally get to the point where I feel more comfortable biking around the big city of Chicago, and, in all honesty, it would have happened sooner if the summer wasn't trying to resemble Death Valley on a cool day.

With Autumn and cooler weather just around the corner, I decided this week was it.  It was time to strap on my helmet and become that awesome person.  It was time to chance rush hour, specifically the cabs, because according to Buddy the Elf, Watch out! The yellow ones don't stop!  Plus, I already had two practice rides that happened over the last two weekends under my belt; yes, I am that person.  Monday was rainy, Tuesday, I wasn't sure I would make it from the office to the yoga studio in time (which I'll admit is a lame excuse), so today, Wednesday, I was out of excuses.  Well, except for the fact that I wasn't really sure which bike route to take, maybe I needed a third trial run.  No, no, no more excuses.  Helmet on, now bike.

The ride to work was easy and extremely enjoyable - the weather was cool, traffic was manageable.  It wasn't until the last few blocks that I became more aware of the traffic because of the nonexistent bike lanes in the Loop.  I, surprisingly, was happy with the route, Milwaukee to Kinzie to State to Monroe, and while it's probably not the most direct one, I feel it's the safest, primarily because of the amazing bike lane on Kinzie.

The only downside to the morning commute was when I met up with a co-worker a block from work.  She simply asked how the ride went and then if I was worried about my bike seat getting stolen, because apparently another co-worker had his recently stolen on the same street that my bike would be parked.  Well, honestly, until that point, a stolen bike seat didn't even cross my mind.  It was a busy street (Michigan Avenue) with lots of people, how could someone just simple steal a bike seat without anyone saying anything.  The worry stayed with me throughout the day.  I pondered the idea of having to bike home without a seat - is that even possible!?  Already, I was planning on lugging my bike to the nearest bus stop, which would take me to a bike shop to have a new seat installed and, hopefully, a locking mechanism to save my new seat from getting stolen.

Five o'clock rolls around, and I finally leave the office at 5.15p with a good luck biking home from another co-worker.  The whole elevator ride, I take deep breathes and hope that my bike is still locked up, please, please, please, with a seat.  Yes!  It's there bike seat and all.  The new gray hair from all the worrying is not appreciated.

I get situated and start my ride home, but I wasn't really sure where I was going.  I forgot to map out a return trip, and, since Chicago has a lot of one way streets, and I'm not really that familiar with the route that would get me home, I took a gamble and started out in the right direction, west.  Not the smartest move, seeing as I missed Kinzie.  I went Wabash to Dearborn and hit every single stop light on Dearborn until I missed Kinzie.  It snuck up on me and crossing over three lanes of traffic on a bike wasn't going to happen.  I ended up on Hubbard (your street girl is lovely, Hubbard Hubble - ok, I admit that was really bad).  Two blocks go by, then I finally backtrack a block until I'm back on Kinzie and have my sights set on that amazing bike lane.  Then, I started to notice the bike traffic.

Bikers passing on the left.  Bikers passing on the right.  Bikers lined up in threes, fours, or more.  Bikers collecting at stop lights.  Bikers weaving in and out of traffic.  The bike traffic wasn't bad, but it was just another thing to bear in mind with all the other distractions on the road.  I paced myself to keep behind the bike cluster fuck (my term) and, if I was the leader of a bike cluster fuck, I will never know.  I only paid attention to the bikers in front of me and the ones in my peripheral vision as they passed me.  Speaking of passing, I passed no one on the ride to work, but on the ride home I passed three people (well, the same person three times - it counts as three).

Thirty minutes later, I pulled up to my apartment.  The trip took the exact same time that it would have taken to ride the EL.  All in all, a successful day biking to work, which warranted the call home to tell my mother that I am awesome and a glass of wine.

Yes, I will bike again to and from work, but probably not tomorrow, more likely Friday or next week.

quotes

She was like the moon - part of her was always hidden away.

Bleeding Violet by Dia Reeves

a blank canvas no more

The space above my bed was a blank wall that needed something, but I could never quite figure out what it needed.  I didn't want the classic headboard that went with the bed frame (read boring, brown wood).  I toyed with the idea of a series of six pictures; I just couldn't settle on what to put in the frames.  I thought about layering frames, just didn't like it above my bed.  

  

On evening last month, I was over at a friend's place and marveling at the massive quantity of frames around their apartment.  My friend's roommate works at a frame store and he has his pick of frames that the store is unable to sell for various reasons, primarily, because they have a flaw (a chip somewhere).  Within the vast collection of frames that he's slowly accumulating, he had two large frames (37 inches by 47 inches).  At first, I passed on them.  Then inspiration struck, and I had to have one.  It would be perfect over my bed.  

One free frame, a quick stop at the Needle Shop for fabric, a visit to Blick Art Supplies for foam core board and picture hanging kit, and an hour spent putting everything together.  My new 'headboard' was complete.

I love it!  The patterns, at first, appear to clash, but the the colors play off each other and keep the eye constantly moving from one place to another.  I think the addition of dark brown pillow cases will also help pull the look together a little bit more and probably removing the teal patterned pillow.

Ideas are starting to take shape for the last two blank walls, the wall at the foot of the bed and the one above the TV.  For the last blank canvas in my bedroom, I need something that I can easily change or absolutely love, since I will wake up to it every single morning.  I also think that this should be simple, no patterns and a lack of color, maybe a large black and white, abstract image or a series of black and white photographs.  For the one above the TV, I think that layering frames might be the perfect fit.  Either way, I am going to start collection frames to layer and searching through black and white photographs.  Until inspiration strikes again.

shock and awe, treasure or treasured junk

perfection

I love shopping and these past few years, I've discovered that I love shopping at antique malls.  Wandering around an antique mall is a great way to spend an afternoon, especially with good friends.  Sometimes I find true gems and must have them, that only an outrageous price would stop me from buying the item.

One such find, over four years ago, was a beautiful Buddha.  It was perfect in my eyes.  I wanted it, but I did not buy it for reasons unknown to me and, to this day, I still have regret not buying that statue.  From that day on, if I find something and I cannot stop thinking about it while I am still shopping, I will buy it.  Lesson learned.

However, the majority of the time wandering through the antique malls, I find myself wondering what would possess someone  around for the truly unique items.  The items that I wonder who would actually want such an item, because it's complete junk in my eyes.

But, as the saying goes, one man's trash is another man's treasure.

Me and Em

Last weekend, I spent another lovely afternoon with one of my favorite people in the whole world, my cousin Emily.  After seeing her quaint house in suburbia and having a wonderful lunch on the deck, we went to the Gurnee Antique Center.

I found the mall through a simple Google search and hoped for the best, since this would be my first.  I guess that I could have checked for online reviews, but that rarely crossed my mind, and, from the pictures of the mall, I thought that this would keep us busy for a few hours.  If not, there was sidewalk sale going on not too far away.

Thankfully, this place was perfect, a gem, and I had a great time.  There are plenty of booths to occupy more than the afternoon.  In fact, even though Em and I had already spent three hours wandering around, we had to rush through the final row of booths because the mall was closing shortly.  I had to see every single booth, in case a rare treasure was hiding inside one.  Next time, I plan on getting there earlier, so there is no rushing and plenty of time to wander aimlessly through all of the booths.  Who knows what treasures I missed?!

Another bonus, the shop ladies are extremely friendly and nice.  They were quick to take items from our hands to place them behind the counter, which freed up my hands to dig through another booth and see what other items I could unearth.

Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, I do not have any pictures of the treasured finds of the day.  I left with blue fiestaware salt and pepper shakers, two smaller ivory fiestaware fruit bowls, a pyrex casserole dish and a gorgeous cream wool coat for autumn.  Em, also had a successful day.  She found a wonderful wool coat, a cask iron iron to use a doorstop, some little bowls, and, the highlight find of the day, a little booklet on the life of a naval cadet.  Her husband works for the navy and it was fate that this book stumbled into her hands.

Hats make for great pictures, and all remained at the mall.

I found these gorgeous statues, but something was not quite right and am still on the hunt for that perfect Buddha statue.  One day, I will find one, the one (again).

 

The creepiest find of the day was a puppet.

A tiny Singer sewing machine, but what I want one day is a typewriter and push sweeper like my grandma had or maybe still has (yes, I am serious).

 

A few other treasures:

A wonderful day and a place to return in due time.  Until then, I've already found the next antique mall for Em and I to visit this fall.  I can only hope it's as good as this place.  Also, though not quite Indiana, but I think that I can crossed antiquing off from my summer list of things to do.

quotes

You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place. Like you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you’ll never be this way ever again.

Azar Nafisi